Friday, April 8, 2011

On The Other End Of Eight / new poems 2011

Playing The Wrong Piano

Playing the
wrong piano/

Transposing crooked notes
left by Cubist lovers/

Floating overhead in pale gray rooms
of their own construction/

Alight with atonal words on fire
smoldering as I smoke backwards/

Exhaling John Cage cancer
and imperfect rings of emphysema/

Wheezing a broken, blackened melody
I cannot breathe/

Sitting here beneath the arbitrary rhythm
of a strangled symphony/

Above a tuck of tails trailing
an exit face flashing before ivories combust/

Knowing I can always just
hum myself to sleep

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